“It was perfect. Will you sit with me a minute?” Saul pulled out a chair for him.
“Thank you, sir.” That made his cheeks heat, but he sat, didn’t he? “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I’ve enjoyed it every morning this week. But it’s not every day someone sends you flowers. I hope that means you’ll let me take you out Friday night?” Saul seemed to be completely serious.
“Like a date?” How long had it been…had he ever been asked on a date? Ever?
Saul blinked at him. “Yeah. A date. With me.”
“I-well, hell. Yes. Yes, I think I will.” Huh.
Saul laughed, the sound pure joy. “Well good. I’m looking forward to it. What time and where should I meet you?”
He had to be back at work at five-thirty in the morning, so he needed to be home fairly early. “Five o’clock at my place?”
Saul nodded once. “I’ll be there. You have my card still, I assume? My cell is on the front, text me your address.”
“I can do that.” Troy felt a bit like he’d been drinking—not enough to be drunk, but just a little tipsy.
“I better get to the shop.” Saul emptied his coffee cup and stood again. “Thanks for finally coming out to talk to me.”
He stood too, held out his hand. “Glad you liked your breakfast.”
Saul caught his eyes and took it but didn’t shake, just held on and gave it a squeeze. “The company was better.”
He didn’t shiver, but goosebumps popped up all over his skin. “Thank you, sir. You have a good day.”
“You too.” Saul let him go and dropped cash on the table, then gave him a smile and headed for the door. “Bye for now.”
“See you.” He grabbed the dishes and dropped them in the bus tub for Ang. He could see Carter, watching, waiting for a report. Fucker.
“You didn’t tell him you were an old man, did you?” He’d say Carter was poking fun, the grin certainly made it look that way, but his boss was up to the elbows cooking in his place. Just stepped right in so he could have his five minutes with Saul.
“He asked me out on a date.” He washed his hands and grabbed his hat. “I said yes.”
“Sounds like fun, Troy.” Carter smiled, gave him a nod, and then pointed to the griddle. “Sunny, scrambled well, Western no onion. Bacon light. He’s a nice kid.”
“Yeah.” He’d see. He hoped so. He didn’t want it to suck. “Got it. Thanks, boss.”
He just needed to focus on getting through his shift. Then he could text his address, take a shower, and maybe jack off.
God knew he needed it.
5
Saul pulled into the bike lane and headed for the shop feeling a little high—on sunshine, on fresh air, on Troy. He wasn’t trying to blow Troy’s mind by asking the guy out, but he thought maybe he had. And he wasn’t sure why that felt so good.
All he knew really was that those green eyes had stories to tell and he wanted to hear every one of them. Stories about ink, about kink, about how someone as genuine as Troy seemed could possibly be single all this time.
He smiled to himself all the way to work, so lost in his strange new obsession that he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.
“Morning!” He ducked behind the counter and flipped open the orders book. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
Emma looked up from the Yeti she was working on, her dreads bouncing like crazy. “I brought doughnuts.”
“Maybe later, thanks. I ate.” God, had he eaten. He’d eaten his own weight every morning for the last three days at that diner. Who the hell flirts over French toast? But it had worked, right? It so totally had. “He finally talked to me.”
“No shit? Really? What did he say? Hell, what did the French toast look like today?”
“It was a flower.” It was so sweet, but it sounded so ridiculous. He felt like a smitten little puppy all of a sudden. “He asked me how it was, and I asked him out.”
“And he said?” Emma was a whore for a happy ending. Hell, she was all over a happy beginning.
This stupid smile was taking over his face. He had a feeling it was going to stay stuck there until Friday. “He said yes, of course. Who would turn me down? Get serious.”
In fact, he’d been nervous about what Troy would say. Geoff said the guy hadn’t dated much and Saul didn’t really know how not to come on strong. He was worried Troy would say no. Even more worried Troy would say no for a real reason, not just because of nerves or something. It wouldn’t have stopped him, he’d have asked again another day, but he was relieved it hadn’t gone that way.
“Rock on, bud! Where are you going? What are you going to do?” Emma stood and stretched up tall—well, as far as her barely five feet tall could get her.
He stared at her. “Fuck. I have no idea. What do you think? I mean, he’s not some college idiot, he’s… well, you know, he’s a man.”
“Friday night, huh? If you were doing a day thing, I’d say Idaho Springs—you could do rafting and Beau Jo’s—but staying here in town? Dinner and a movie?”
“Yeah, we have to stay in town this time. Dinner for sure. But a movie? You can’t talk during a movie.” Maybe dinner and an evening walk? He figured Troy wanted to get home early for work in the morning, why else set it for five o’clock? He could swing a nice dinner. “Catch the sunset maybe.” He knew a spot.
“Oh, that’s cool. Sunset and come back for a lazy coffee?”
“This is why I keep you around. I love lazy coffee.” He reached under the counter and grabbed a doughnut. “I’m just going to eat my nerves.”
“Fair enough. You want something to drink? I’m grabbing a tea.” She wiped her hands off on the towel in her waistband. “And lazy coffee can last hours, right?”
“Yeah. Totally. I’ll take a tea too, thanks.” Lazy coffee was starting to sound like the best part of the date. “Speaking of dates… you had one last night, didn’t you? And here I am talking about myself.”
“I did. We’re going rafting on Sunday. She’s hot as hell, and? She has a Harley.”
“You’re a sucker for the tough girls, aren’t you?”
This was good. Having someone he knew got it, someone he could confide in. He had this feeling that dating Troy was going to fuck with him a little. He’d never gotten this kind of vibe, felt a connection with anyone so quickly. Actually, he’d never gotten this kind of vibe from anyone at all. Ever.
“What should I wear?” He blinked. See? It was fucking with him already. He’d never given that kind of thing any thought, much less asked that question out loud.
“Jeans. Maybe that black shirt you bought in Aspen? The one with the barely there metallic threads?” She tossed him a bottle of iced tea.
He caught it and opened it right up. “Yes. Good idea. It’s comfy too.” He felt confident in that shirt. Oh, the things he’d learned in Aspen. His balls ached just thinking about that trip. He could almost smell the leather.
“It shows off your shoulders too, which is handy.”